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While flying over the desert I thought,
The desert is the fingerprint of God.
All of the ridges and mountains of sand
are holding the imprint of God’s hand.
Creatures live and hide
in the shadows cast by the setting sun.
Just over the mountain peaks
a silhouette of shining glory,
and all creatures find rest in it.
Every person leaves their mark in the valleys.
When the wind blows,
the colors of dirt,
earth and fire swirling upward
and dancing toward heaven.
The warm orange and brown hues
kiss the sky’s blue radiance.
The earth, she glows.
Twilight introduces the night sky
as colors fade from deep blue into dusk,
and in the middle of it all,
the bodies of water resting between deep valleys
reflect every transaction that the earth and sky make.
In every reflection, I can see eternity.
High above the clouds,
the peaks of the mountains echo unto me.
I wonder if I am seeing a glimpse of heaven
and it’s true majesty.
I wonder:
if the earth is God’s footstool,
embroidered in color, fire,
atmosphere and wind,
what more is there that no eye has ever seen?
As I behold the mountains,
light floods the valleys,
resting in empty space,
air and dust.
Light reverberates and echoes off of all creation.
It sears my natural eyes.
I can hardly behold all of the beauty
that is merely God’s fingerprint.
The earth is the fingerprint of God.
All of creation bears the mark
of the imprint of God’s hand.